Today
by angel-san801
Summary: Micheal and Fisk finally realize their love for each other, but is it too late? Michael/Fisk slash Rating may go up. discontinued/on hiatus
1. Chapter 1

**Today**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the books in the Knight and Rogue series. If I did, do you think I would I really be writing **_**fan**_**fic?**

**Rating: T (for this chapter at least): talk of sex/sexual implications, maleXmale, slight language, and violence (also slight)**

_Well, it's been a while since I read the Knight and Rogue series, but since I finally got nii-san to read the first one (at least) I felt I had to write some slash for it, that and the fact that I just now realized there was a category for it. Since it's been a while since I read it, there's most likely going to be a lot of accidental OOCness, and for that I apologize profusely *bows head in shame*, but I desperately feel the need to put more Michael/Fisk out into the world (even if it's not that well written or conceived). I hope it's not too bad!_

_Also thank you nii-san (P3 Dude) for providing the summary and title!_

* * *

><p>"For the last time, I said I'm fine, <em>Noble Sir"<em>, Fisk angrily shoved Michael away as he attempted to check the makeshift dressing on his shoulder for about the tenth time in the past hour.

His squire had a right to be mad, Michael couldn't help but concede. It was of course his fault (as always) that they were in this situation. Locked up in the basement of some abandoned building, beaten, injured, and most likely about to be killed by the powerful drug lord Michael had been so intent on bringing to justice- something Fisk had not failed to mention (quite a few times) was just about one of the stupidest things he had ever done. But he was just worried!

Five or six of the drug lord's goons had jumped them on that night on their way back to the inn they were staying in. During the skirmish, which was rather short-lived outnumbered and caught off guard as they were, Fisk had been stabbed in the shoulder. He supposed they should be thankful it was the worst of their injuries- something that was more then a bit surprising as one would think men like these would just kill them on the spot, and of course brought about the rather unsettling question of what they _did_ plan on doing with them. Properly treated, it would not necessarily be life threatening, but still, it was a very deep wound and had bled terribly. And it still seemed to be causing Fisk quite a bit of pain, though he refused to admit it.

It was rather strange now that he thought of it. In these sorts of situations, it always seemed to be Michael who was injured or in peril, and the knight errant couldn't help but feel bad for his friend now that he'd gotten a taste of what the other side of it was like.

Shortly after they had first been locked up in here, Fisk had fainted from either pain or blood loss, and for one brief but terrible moment Michael had thought he was dead. The utter horror of that moment was nothing he ever wanted the displeasure of reliving.

"Does it still hurt? Tis not bleeding again, is it?" Michael tried once more to check the wound, but Fisk shrugged away from him, wincing in pain and cursing under his breath when the movement aggravated his injury.

"Of course it still hurts! And perhaps it would stop bleeding if _someone_ would stop making me move", the rogue retorted through clenched teeth, clutching his shoulder, which Michael saw now, was in fact bleeding once more.

The knight errant frowned, biting his lip worriedly. Fisk had already lost quite a bit of blood. Even in the extremely dim light of the one candle they had found amongst other rubbish down here, Michael could see that the rogue's face was quite a bit paler and though he tried to hide it, had started to shiver slightly. In his weakened state he doubted his friend would even be able to stand unassisted. He had considered looking for a needle and thread amongst the cluttered items to try stitching the wound shut, but with nothing to sterilize them with, it would most likely do more harm then good especially with anything he might find within all this dirt and dust.

Gods, he felt so utterly helpless. And again, he felt a pang of sympathy for Fisk for the times the situation had been reversed.

"Stop your damn worrying. You look more pathetic then I do, and its making it hard for me to stay mad at you." The flare of pain evidently having passed, the rogue's expression softened, and his right hand's grip on his left shoulder loosened falling back to his side his voice taking on a softer sympathetic tone as a sort of counter to the slightly harsh choice of words, making them sound more teasing then angry really. "Its really not that bad. I'm sure it only _feels_ like I'm dying."

Michael couldn't help but smile. It was obvious that Fisk was trying to make him feel better. The rogue could be downright sweet at times even if he didn't quite show it openly or would even admit to it if it was brought up later. He supposed it was only natural. His friend had led a tough life, had been forced to grow up much too fast, his life of crime teaching him to be cynical and trust no one. But it was these rare moments where his natural kindness and good-naturedness shown through that made Michael hopeful for a day when the two of them could truly be completely intimate with each other.

"Completely intimate"

The knight errant felt a blush creep up on his face at the way he had inadvertently phrased that last thought. A wide range of mental images assaulted him, none of which should be described in polite company and he had to quickly turn away as he felt his blush deepen. All he had meant was that he wanted the two of them to be close friends, comrades! Not… not… _that!_ As if in protest to the admonishment, one image came back even clearer then before. The two of them naked, kissing, touching, caressing, and- Horrified by what his own imagination had produced, Michael quickly squashed down the thought, frantically trying to think of something- anything else.

Fisk raised an eyebrow, looking at the back of his friend's suddenly turned head. "Problems?"

"N-no, I- umm- Nothing!" Damn, that was the best response he could come up with? Michael still didn't turn around, and could feel his friends eyes boring into the back of his skull. He was suddenly glad for the dim lighting, as it made it much harder to notice the growing bulge in his trousers, though he still self-consciously moved his hands to his lap in an attempt to hide it just in case.

"I- I mean", turning around, but still not meeting his friend's eyes the knight errant nervously cleared his throat, "tis nothing. I just…" He trailed off. I just what? Was thinking of us sleeping together, and it distracted me? He could still feel Fisk staring at him, and he knew he had to look like a complete mad man right now, but he couldn't for the life of him think of any excuse to cover for his behavior, and being in such close proximity to Fisk in such a dark room was not helping the situation in the slightest.

Michael straightened slightly, mentally shaking his head as he did his best to regain his composure. "Umm, so you are sure your injury is fine?"

"As fine as it's going to be, but I think we should be more worried about _your _injury, Noble Sir. You seem to have taken a rather harsh blow to the head. How many fingers am I holding up?"

Michael involuntarily blushed as the fingers were shoved in his face. He knew where he would like those fingers to be- oh gods, stop thinking about that!

And then to his horror, Michael heard rather then felt himself blurt out "Fisk, may I kiss you?"

A long silence filled the dark room. Fisk's mouth opened as if he was about to say something, but no words came out. Unsuccessful in getting anything out, he closed it, blinking incredulously at his friend, who remained silent as well, looking to be just as shocked by his own request.

"Wha… Why…?" Fisk tried again, slightly more successful this time around, if not expressing everything that was going through his head right now, at least getting down to the main point of it.

"I-I apologize! I don't know what I'm saying! Tis merely stress, I'm sure!", Michael replied hurriedly. Suddenly snapping out of the initial shock that had left him speechless, words now poured out his mouth in an almost unintelligible stream. He could feel that he was blushing again, but somehow that seemed to be the least of his problems right now. How could he have said that? Fisk must now think him to be insane, or some kind of pervert. "Ah, um, perhaps you were right. I must have been hit on the head. Yes of course, that must be it!"

The knight errant gave his friend a rather unconvincing reassuring smile. One the rogue didn't seem to be buying by his expression which had "oh really?" written all over it.

Fisk sighed, running his hand- of his uninjured arm- through his hair trying to collect his thoughts before replying slowly, "Why…", he paused for a moment, the preposterousness of the situation seeming to have put him at a loss for words, taking a second before he could continue. "Why would you want to kiss me…?" Then, seeming to rethink it, groaned covering his face with his hand, "Gods, I must be worse off then I thought to be hallucinating like this."

Michael didn't respond, but shuffled a little uncomfortably in his seated position. If only that were a viable excuse, he thought. Honestly, why had he said that? It wasn't as if his friend was just going to say "okay, knock yourself out, but not too much tongue please" or anything like that. And now the knight errant feared that this could very well ruin the friendship he had been working so hard to achieve.

"Do you…" Fisk started when Michael remained silent, "do you really feel… _that way_ about me…?" He sounded rather taken aback as if it was hard for him to believe the words coming out of his own mouth right now. None of this was anything he would have expected, even though as a successful con man, the rogue had _thought_ he was quite good at reading people. Apparently not good enough he conceded.

Michael's gaze was fixed on the floor, and he shifted nervously a bit before answering, "I…" How could he answer that? Especially when he didn't really understand it himself. The two of them had been together for quite some time now, had been with each other through many a tough time, and had gotten a lot closer then he had really expected possible. In fact, without a doubt he could say that Fisk was the best friend he had ever had. Not that tough of a competition he conceded a bit bitterly, especially now that he had no real ties left to his past life, and precious little chance of making much of a new one for himself with those accursed marks on his wrists, but still Fisk had always had his back, both physically and emotionally. And just recently, Michael had started to have…. _those _thoughts about him.

He couldn't say exactly when it had started, only that it hadn't been all at once. Just a vague passing notion at first, growing gradually in intensity until even the slightest touch or look was enough to spur his mind into one of those awful unbidden fantasies. But… he wasn't sure what he felt. I could merely be the lack of any real female- er- contact… ever. However, a small voice in the back of his mind argued that this was not the case. Still…

"I… don't know… I-I mean, kind of…" Michael stumbled his way through the best answer he could give, sighing and closing his eyes for a moment, still not looking at Fisk. "I'm sorry. Tis… most confusing. I don't…" He trailed off, realizing he was just repeating himself.

There was an agonizing pause, in which Michael's eyes remained fearfully glued to the floor. Scared to look up to see his friend's expression. Would he be angry, disgusted? A relationship like that between two men was something that to most civilized people was simply unheard of. Something that was sure to make both parties shunned for life (well… much like being marked as unredeemed actually…).

"Well, I can't say that I'm not flattered. I didn't know I was that irresistible." It caught Michael off guard when Fisk laughed casually.

"I mean, I have to say, you're actually quite a nice catch if I do say so myself." The rogue shrugged, then winced having forgotten about his shoulder.

To say Michael was dumbfounded was a gross understatement. This was not at all the reaction he had expected, and the knight could do nothing but stare, mouth open dumbly, though he was finding it incredibly difficult to make actual words come out.

"Y-you mean… you don't… mind…" Michael finally managed with a bit of difficulty. The knight's gaze nervously fell back to floor as he said this, his eyes darting up only for a second to try to catch his friend's reaction still afraid that any second he would be rejected.

"Mind? Michael, I…" Fisk paused, his casual demeanor dropping and sounding as though he was unsure of exactly what it was he meant to say, "I really…", the rogue's voice trailed off again, before he finally settled on a different route. "So how about that kiss?"

Michael gave a sheepish smile, blushing as he was reminded of his previous request. Well, it wouldn't do for a knight not to follow through with what he set out to do…

Slowly, Michael leaned forward, careful of Fisk's injury, as he lightly pressed himself against his friend's body. Their faces were so close that their lips were nearly touching. Michael felt more then heard Fisk take in a shaky breath, and the following light exhale of air. The knight errant closed his eyes, leaning in that last little distance to meet his friend's lips, sealing the soft kiss that he hoped would only be the beginning.

* * *

><p><em>If you've gotten this far, thank you for reading my terrible writing! Please leave a review and tell me your opinionscriticisms (I'd especially like to know if they seemed out of character or not, since I'm a bit worried about that) and whether or not you think the story should change to an M rating in later chapters (right now this is my only non M fic) ,or even _have _later chapters. _

_~angel-san_


	2. Chapter 2

**Rating: Still T for the time being**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Knight and Rogue series (not even a little). I do however own a fanfiction account and an overactive imagination. That's where this story comes in.**

_I'm sorry for the long wait (and for the extremely short chapter)! I kind of got caught up writing my other stories… and then got writer's block and couldn't really write much of anything. I've kind of gotten back into the swing of things though. Sorry for making you wait, but I hope you enjoy!_

It was hard to say how much time had passed since they had first been locked up, being that the basement of course had no windows with which to tell the time of day. But the two had already had the time to sleep, wake up, and continue to worry over their fates as neither friend nor foe came through locked door.

They- or at least Michael, since Fisk currently barely had the strength to stand (which was more then a bit worrisome)- had already tried more then once to break down the door, but it was no use. The thing was solid and strong, a stark contrast to the rest of the basement (though they could not really say anything for the rest of the house as they had both been blindfolded prior to being locked in here) which seemed as though it had been abandoned for years, it's contents dusty and rat infested, it's walls and floor cracked, and the short flight of wooden stairs leading up to the door rotting quite dangerously.

Someone had purposefully replaced the door, along with it's frame. Evidence that they were not the first to be locked down here. Apparently these people had a reason for keeping hostages on a fairly regular basis.

But then of course, they could just be leaving them to rot… That idea began to seem more and more likely with every second that passed.

"Mayhap, they aren't coming back…" Michael said hesitantly after his fourth unsuccessful try at the door. It was hard to say whether that possibility was more or less disheartening then any of the rest, though none either of them had yet to think up seemed particularly pleasant (though a few Fisk had come up with had been quite creative. Michael didn't think cannibalism still existed in this day and age, but it was still a suitably sickening image to bide the time with). He came back down the stairs, carefully avoiding the foot-sized hole he had accidentally made on the way up. Walking, slightly more discouraged then he had been five minutes ago, back to the far wall he and Fisk had been sitting against for the past hours, he saw that his companion had dozed off again. He frowned slightly. The rogue had been doing that a lot in the past few hours.

Well… he probably needed his rest since he was still so weak. Michael didn't try to wake him up, though he wondered at how comfortable he could be sleeping sitting up as he was. He considered moving him, but… that would probably just wake him up.

Uncomfortable or not though, he did look adorable, his head leaning against his shoulder, serene expression of sleep on his face, lips slightly parted allowing soft puffs of air to escape. Fisk was usually so guarded, and it was only in sleep that he appeared this vulnerable. Vulnerable like allowing that kiss before.

It was odd, Michael mused now, he would have thought that after something like that things would feel different, however it was as though nothing at all had changed between them. Twas almost aggravating in a way. But… he wasn't sure exactly what he was expecting. They were still the same two people. Still the same knight and squire, they just kissed more now. Or something like that…

Fisk stirred in his sleep, interrupting the knight errant's thoughts as he shifted, before slouching precariously to the side. It was a good thing Michael had been sitting beside him as it took only seconds for his companion, apparently very deeply asleep as he was, to fall completely to the side, and would have no doubt cracked his head on the hard floor were it not for the lap that broke his fall.

Michael was surprised for a moment, mind taking a second to catch up with how his squire had suddenly gone from sleeping beside him, to sleeping on him.

It was an intimate position, that between two men should have felt awkward (and would have had it been anyone else), but it was actually rather nice. Michael shifted carefully as to not disturb his sleeping companion to make the position more comfortable for the both of them. A slight smile played on his lips, as he gently brushed a few stray strands of hair from his friend's face, at the same time, checking for fever, which he was glad to say was nonexistent.

Things felt so peaceful then, that it was easy to forget their current predicament, and the fact that their lives still hung in the balance. As it was, the sound approaching of voices and boot steps from somewhere outside the door came as surprise, and effectively ruined any short-lived fantasy of peace.

Michael immediately tensed at the sound, hastily shaking Fisk awake with a hand on his uninjured shoulder- receiving what sounded like "I'm up" in response, though it was so heavily mumbled it was hard to tell.

Fisk sat up groggily, and looked like he wanted to say something (likely about the sleeping arrangement, though it had been his fault actually), but stopped, on alert when he too heard their new guests just as by the sound of it, the door was being unlocked.

Seconds later, lantern light flooded the room, as three not overly friendly seeming men armed with long swords, that they by the looks of them they knew how to handle, entered.

It seemed they would soon be finding out their fate.

_Thank you for reading! Sorry it was so short, I just wanted to post something to show I hadn't given up on it. I'll try to make the next chapter longer._

_Also, unless my keyboard betrays me, this will eventually be moving up to an M rating (yay!), so prepare for sexy times! :)_

_Thank you so much to those who reviewed the first chapter! It really means a lot to me!_

_~angel-san _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer: Love Hilari Bell's work, but love does not mean ownership.**

**Rating: T until otherwise noted (it **_**will **_**eventually be otherwise noted, but not without proper warning)**

_I'm really sorry for how long its taken me to update (almost a year, good god). I got… really stuck on it as I only really had the first scene in mind when I wrote it, and there was some shit happening in my personal life that distracted me at the time, and kind of got me off writing. Anyway, lame excuses aside, I'm very grateful to everyone who has read and reviewed so far, and… yeah if anyone actually still even remembers this fic after so long… I hope you'll still want to read despite the incredibly long wait._

* * *

><p>To say that Michael was shocked at their captor's intentions would be a vast understatement. It appeared that drugs were not the only thing these people sold. To think that something as unjust as slavery would still exist right under the nose of the law in this day and age seemed simply preposterous to the young knight errant.<p>

Fisk on the other hand did not seem overly surprised at the news, making Michael wonder whether his squire had already seen or heard of this during his past dealings with matters outside the law. Or rather that his lack of shock stemmed merely from the rogue's inexplicable ability to always expect the worst of people, a quality- often to Fisk's annoyance- Michael did not share.

As it was, the two of them were currently being forced to walk alongside their captors- five of them as there had been two more waiting outside while the first three had gone to fetch them- who had the luxury of being on horseback (something that only served to guiltily remind Michael of their own steeds whose fate was still unknown to him- he had already asked and learned how little their captors appreciated questions via a blow to the back of the head) down a path that by the level of undergrowth did not appear to be traveled often. Not to mention the fact that it was the middle of the night (though torches the riders carried provided more then enough light to see by). And if what they said was true- and really, why wouldn't it be?- they had good reason to not wish to run into other travelers.

They had been forcibly led to march on for about two or three hours now, and besides the initial brief explanation of their fates and the occasional warning or reprimand, the men had spoken hardly a word to their captives. Michael wondered if perhaps they did not know English all that well. They seemed to be foreign from their appearance- though the knight could not place exactly where they were from- and had spoken with odd heavy accents with awkward grammar and occasionally using words that did not quite seem to fit. Exactly _how much_ they did or did not understand however was unknown to him, so he did not think it wise to start trying to hatch escape plans with Fisk (his squire really was rubbing off on him for him to have jumped to the idea of such an underhanded scheme so quickly).

Speaking of his squire… Michael glanced over at Fisk who was walking beside him, though now it seemed his pace had started to slow as he had fallen slightly- though not quite enough to incite their captors' wrath- behind. He looked tired, and his face was drawn in a slight grimace, his good hand clutching his injured shoulder.

Worried, Michael allowed himself to fall back beside him, earning a warning look from one of the men which the knight met evenly. The man glared, holding his gaze for a moment before grunting and turning back to the road ahead deciding for now at least that the knight was not trying to run away.

"Are you alright?", Michael asked noticing the same man glance back to glare at him again, though he still did not do anything further to try to stop him from conversing with his companion.

"Fine", Fisk grunted, turning slightly to meet Michael's worried look, and the knight couldn't help but note that he looked a little dazed, "all this walking is just getting to me."

Fisk tried to give him a reassuring smile, but ended up grimacing again when he stumbled a bit over a rock, jarring his wounded shoulder further.

"Mayhap I should ask them if we could stop to take a break", the knight suggested, his eyebrows furrowed in concern for his friend.

"You think they would listen to you?" The rogue questioned skeptically, jerking his head slightly to gesture to their stern watchmen.

"But you're in pain…"

"Oh hush", Fisk smirked despite his increasing discomfort, "you're just trying to get into my pants. I already know your scheme."

Michael's face reddened slightly looking suddenly flustered, his eyes darted to their captors, but they either were not listening, did not understand, or simply did not care whom was trying to get into whom's pants.

"D-don't say that so loudly…!" Michael retorted in a harsh whisper, drawing more attention then Fisk's comment (though their companions still gave little notice seeing as they weren't trying to escape). He knew people were unlikely to take kindly to relationships of that nature… the same sex nature, and understandably did not want Fisk speaking so casually of it. That and it was embarrassing.

The rogue raised an amused eyebrow at this, "joking, Nobel Sir. I've known you long enough to know you're too stupidly morally steadfast for any sort of scheming. Tis exactly why you've never been able to obtain a lady lover, and were forced to resort to-"

"Fisk!" Michael hurriedly cut him off (and more or less finished his sentence), glaring at the pleased with himself expression on his companion's face. "A-anyway, we are straying from the point. I really think you need to take a break."

Fisk shrugged, and then winced (he really had to stop doing that) clutching his shoulder a little tighter, "and believe me, I would love to, but as it is there isn't much we can do about that."

The rogue sighed. The conversation had distracted him from it for a moment, but he really was worn out, and his shoulder continued to throb more and more painfully, jolted with every step he took.

Caught up in his small bought of self-pity, Fisk didn't notice Michael had left his side until it was too late to stop him. The knight, mustering up as much confidence as he could, had marched up to the front of the party, coming up next to the man in the lead (who he could only assume must be the leader if there was one). Immediately, seeing Michael so boldly approach him, the man pulled back on his reins, bringing his horse to a stop- effectively signaling for the rest of the party to halt as well- and glared fiercely down at the younger man. He looked as though he was about to shout something at him, but Michael spoke before he could, filling his voice with confidence that went against their relative positions.

"Sir, my companion is tired and hurt. I suggest we take a small break to let him rest."

Fisk looked on, stunned. What the hell did he think he was doing?! You did not give orders to the people who kidnapped you! He could have slapped the idiot.

Their captors for their part looked just as stunned (though two of them appeared to hold a deeper confusion, suggesting that they had not quite understood what he had said and confirming the theory of them not knowing English very well).

The one in the lead who had been the one directly addressed quickly recovered from his shock, expression turning to one of anger instead.

"You do not give command! We stop when we get to camp! No more sooner!" He then glanced back to Fisk, sneering cruelly, "he only injured in shoulder, not feet. Tell him stop whining and tough up!"

Then ignoring Michael, he slapped his horses reins starting off once more, again a silent signal for the rest of the party to follow suit.

Michael, dejected at his fruitless efforts, let himself fall back to Fisk's side.

"I'm sorry", the knight said, "I really tried."

"I told you not to bother", Fisk glared, still shocked that his companion had even for a second thought that would work. "Honestly, I'm just surprised they didn't decide to beat you as well."

And really, they could have. The knight should learn to be more careful.

"I don't think a slave already beaten half to death would catch quite as much gold as a perfectly healthy one", the knight replied calmly, to his squire's shock showing that for once he actually _had_ thought his actions through, "and I was hoping they would see the sense in keeping you healthy as well."

Fisk couldn't help but laugh a little at the fact that his employer was actually somewhat making sense for a change. "Can't win them all I suppose."

* * *

><p>It was already long past dawn when they were finally allowed to stop at a small clearing near the path that showed signs of having already been camped in not long ago (assumedly the spot their captors had rested in on the way here). Michael of course was tired and sore himself after so much walking, but Fisk seemed ready to collapse. The knight had long since offered his companion to lean on him, and for the last hour or so, he had been having to nearly drag the man along.<p>

When they arrived, the man Michael assumed was something of a second in command had gruffly motioned for them to sit by a fallen log near the middle of the camp while three of the others silently went to set up tents. If he had expected either of them to be allowed to sleep in one of these tents (or even with a blanket), he was sorely mistaken. After the tents had been set up, three of the men had retired within while two stayed out to keep a strict watch on the knight and squire who were restricted to the spot they had initially been led to.

It seemed- contrary to Michael's theory of the men wishing to keep them healthy- their captives would be provided only with the bare minimum for their survival as they were only given water and stale bread as dinner to match their harsh sleeping arrangements.

Fisk hadn't wanted to eat much, claiming he was too tired to be hungry, which worried Michael greatly. The knight also noted upon feeling his forehead that he felt slightly warm- also not a good sign.

"Fisk, let me check your wound", the knight said, going to carefully unwrap the makeshift bandage (which was actually just a torn off piece of Michael's cloak).

Fisk winced a little as the cloth came away, blood causing it to stick a bit to the wound. The knight frowned as some of the blood looked fresh. All the constant jarring caused by walking must have prevented it from keeping closed properly. He had saved some of the water they had given them to drink, and used it now to do what he could to clean the wound, which he now also noted was warmer to the touch then the rest of him and the skin around it appeared inflamed.

Twas obviously starting to show signs of infection, causing Michael's gut to clench with dread. He didn't know whether or not he should voice his concerns as there wasn't much either of them could do about it, and their captors didn't seem overly fond of helping them for some reason. After cleaning it as best he could, the knight silently tore off another strip of his own cloak and began to wrap it around the wound, muttering an apology when Fisk grit his teeth in pain from having to lift his arm slightly to accommodate this.

"Well, you sure look grim", Fisk said tiredly after it was through. "I suppose it's not good news?"

Michael bit his lip, eyes shifting to the side as he considered lying (he really was terrible at it), but thought better of it, "it… looks like it's beginning to grow infected…"

"Oh." Fisk said simply, and Michael was a little surprised he didn't add anything else about this whole awful situation being the knight's fault or anything.

"We should get some rest…" Michael said finally, having to help Fisk to lie down without moving his arm too much.

Sleeping on the ground was quite uncomfortable with nothing underneath to cushion it and twas difficult to sleep with the sun shining so brightly, but it was more worry for his companion then this that disturbed Michael's rest.

* * *

><p><em>Sorry, not much of any romance in this chapter. They're in too much peril to be lovey-dovey right now. <em>

_Uh… I don't know how much it did or didn't stick out, but I really struggled with the foreign dudes' dialogue. I mean I wanted to make it obvious that they didn't speak fluently, but I was worried it came out sounding like some racist Chinese accent or something lol. (and uh, yeah, that's not how I meant it, don't picture it that way. They're just… imaginary foreign dudes or something? ha ha…) _

_Ah plot plot plot… I'm not used to plot. I'm used to smutty oneshots, but I'm trying to branch out. That being said, if there are any plot holes or anything that just doesn't seem to add up or whatever, feel free to criticize (even if I might cry *kidding(?)*). Or non plot too if I missed anything gramatical or spelling-wise *don't look over my stuff well enough after I write it*_

_Anyway, I'll stop rambling like an idiot now (I think I have a problem with that…). If you've read this far, I'd love it if you'd review and tell me what you think! I hope you enjoyed!_


End file.
